


Perfect, Perfect

by xxELF21xx



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, M/M, Might be a drabble, might be a multichap, whenever I feel like it I'll add in some //lousy// R15
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:14:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxELF21xx/pseuds/xxELF21xx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was supposed to be Mr. Perfect.</p><p>Not some bloke who has a few things more, that isn't money or friends or fame or looks or whatever, and that made him mad.</p><p>Alfred F. Jones swore he would hate new Mr. Perfect, Arthur Kirkland. He expected jealousy to be a common feeling when around the new boy.</p><p>But he never did quite expect a certain, unwanted, feeling to rouse as well.</p><p>"It wasn't because looking at Arthur -God, did Alfred hate him- made the other boy's heart thump louder and faster and his blood rush into his ears and his face to get slightly pinker and his words end up wrong. No. </p><p>And Alfred had to face it- he wasn't just jealous of Arthur Kirkland anymore. </p><p>He was crushing on the Brit. Hard.</p><p>So hard, that he could hear the phrase "I'm English, not Brit!" every single time he thinks of Arthur.</p><p>And -God damn it all- Francis being chummy, yet not quite, with Alfred's new crush did not help it at all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perfect, Perfect

Alfred had it all.

Friends, money, a cool bro, fame, looks, he's captain of the basketball team, girls like him. He was Mr. Perfect.

Yeah, was. 

Then, enter Arthur Kirkland. A Brit boy -who claims that Brits and Englishmen are different- has soul-bearing emerald irises, slightly thick eyebrows (that make him oh-so-adorable), a love for books, music, and the like, four over-protective brothers and an extensive family that crosses the borders of the countries and seas, better grades than Alfred, wealthy, famous, charming, good looking and lastly, he's got girls cooing over him every time he steps in a room.

And Alfred hates, hates, absolutely detests it.

It took three months for the school to make him Mr. Perfect. And all Arthur Kirkland has to do is shyly shuffle his feet and smile uncertainly whilst grabbing at his older brother's arm like a lifeline -and he blushes as he does so, and Alfred swears he hears girls internally screaming when he does that. Arthur blushes, face a beautiful light pink shade and emerald irises widen and water at the stares he's getting while the older redhead whom he's grabbing desperately growl and frown at the crowd- that's all it takes for the school to crown Kirkland as the better Mr. Perfect.

Better. It leaves a bitter taste in Alfred's mouth when he thinks that.

'Ah,' Francis, a blond with long hair tied up in a ribbon and blue, bright eyes, who is also Alfred's best friend and quite the flirt. And also French, just in case it was not clear enough. 'Arthur! Mon amour! Welcome to the school!' Arthur frowns, brows knitted together, and holds his brother closer.

Alfred is rather stunned at the French's statement. "Mon amour"? Whatever that meant, Alfred did not like it.

The older Kirkland, a senior named Allistor but likes to be called "Scott", pats Arthur on his head and tells him something in a hushed tone. Arthur's expression of fury and fear and his trembling body and shaking head tells Alfred Arthur does not like what he is being told to do.

Scott gives his brother a light -but heavy- shove, Arthur shoving him with the same might, and Arthur stalks to Francis' open and inviting arms. He stalks rather elegantly, though.

Girls giggled even more, and it was annoying Alfred to a limit, as Francis smothered Arthur with questions upon questions of unknown French and Arthur meekly replies with a word or two back.

His accent was making him even more adorable, and Alfred gets irritated.

Francis, once satisfied, grins -shocking Alfred in the process- at Arthur and walks off with Arthur, making advances that the golden blond avoids expertly, talking and laughing. 

Alfred notices a flash of what seemed like love cross Francis' blue eyes. He'd never seen that, not after Jeanne D'Arc left and transferred across the country. And Francis loved the girl.

Did he love Arthur like that too? Alfred felt irritation unlike any other crawl up his skin, stinging him repeatedly.

\--

A year later, Alfred sees Francis looking at Arthur like that again. One year.

One year of seeing Scott, as well as the other Kirkland brothers, chase off girls that disturbed their younger brother and leave boys in the hospital, half dead, when they tried to flirt with Arthur. Or even worse, try and bed him. Alfred had heard those few brave souls got castrated.

Also, one year of picking fights left and right with said enemy, seeing Arthur's face close to tears and flushed an angry and bitter red with brows knitted tightly next to each other, Alfred felt a sense of accomplishment. Though, he had not been beaten up, yet.

Alfred wondered why.

Arthur, it seems, likes Literature -well, duh-, knitting, sewing, punk/rock music, the UK's Queen, cooking, cursing like a sailor when mad, pirates. And Francis. Alfred frowns deeply at that.

Arthur flushes a different red around thr French. An embarrassing, bright, "I-will-kill-you-but-I-love-you" shade. And it looks wonderful on him. 

Alfred hears Arthur's bright and soft laughter float from his table to Alfred's own table. Francis muses by telling -guessing- what Arthur is laughing about. Matthew, Alfred's twin, hurriedly replies that "not everything has to be about one's vital regions!" before smacking Francis with the heavy math textbook.

Ouch, it doesn't hurt because the textbook was heavy. Nope, but because Matthew was Cap of the hockey team; and can slap a thin paperback but still hurt as if a swarm of hornets came stinging one part of your face all at once.

It doesn't take a genius to know that hurts.

Francis, being the charmer he is, runs to Arthur's table and sits next to Niall, Arthur's older brother of a few years, Niall welcomes him by smacking him upside the head. Francis yelps, but does not say anything. Callum, Arthur's brunet brother, shakes his head and rants to Francis about how he "flees to Arthur every time something comes up wrong". Pat, Niall's twin, snorts and adds in as well. Scott just throws a dirty look.

Matthew mutters something and settles his book down. 'Al?' Alfred turns to his brother, who was pointing to the fork that broke in said person's hand. A raised eyebrow makes Alfred think of a lie.

He finds none to tell. 'Nothing. Just thought of how lousily Manchester played last night.' He said loud enough for the Kirklands' to hear.

They all glare at him, Arthur the most. 'You- ' Arthur abruptly stopped. Francis was backing Alfred up.

Magical.

Athur lets out a low, threatening growl, and everyone stops eating and talking and goofing around; attention on Kirkland.

The other Kirklands, Alfred later realizes, smirk.

'You blasted frog!' Arthur hisses, face still like smooth; pale porcelain, 'I have tried so fucking hard to accomodate you, I went with your jokes and pranks and insults, I kept my mouth shut, I have yet to punch you. I restrained myself from stabbing you with my fork or hit your "beautiful face". And each day you bloody test my patience, you tell me that I need a partner and all sorts of bollocks, I have had enough.'

A pause.

'GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BLOODY SIGHT, YOU TOSSING, WANKING FRENCH FROG.' 

Arthur's face was still the same porcelain shade.

The Kirklands' smiled wider, clapping, congratulating their younger brother for being a gentleman for a full year before blowing. Arthur was still fuming. He glowered at Alfred next. 

Truth be told, Alfred had never felt so threatened. Arthur stormed off after that, and the girls started to fawn over Arthur.

The Kirklands' were all wearing glares, and the room was silent once again. Funny, only Niall and Pat should be left in this school. Scott graduated two years ago, and Callum was done last year. They still lingered in this school like guards.

Except, they were teachers. At this damned school. Scott taught World History while Callum taught English. And both of these classes Alfred had with Arthur.

They sat side by side. And Alfred was always on the revcieving end on the glares if he got too close. 

The older Kirklands' left in the opposite direction of where Arthur went, presumably to their clasrooms. 

'Um,' Matthew stuttered, 'see you, Alf.' Alfred nodded absentmindedly. He would have noticed Matt frown, jf he paid attention.

\--  
Another year later, when they were graduating, did Alfred discover something. It was so severe that he could not pick fights with Kirkland -or win them- without feeling guilty or upset or his stomach knot up when the shorter male tears up. 

And Alfred feels himself falling, falling, falling. Everything suddenly made sense now. Why he felt upset about the cooing, the fans. It wasn't just his title of Mr. Perfect anymore, it was another totally different thing.

-You're perfect, perfect, perfect, for me-


	2. Perfect, Not Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred feels like he's fallen far too deep into the canyon. He can't see anything.
> 
> Arthur, on the other hand, feels like he's flying. By flying, it means he's a free man now.
> 
> Antonio and Francis decides that seeing Alfred make moon eyes at Arthur is irritating them; and they play cupid.
> 
> It no longer is about the title of Mr. Perfect anymore. The stakes are way higher. Sky high. It's to find out who's not as perfect.
> 
> Problem; Arthur still resents the American. Alfred thinks that Francis and Arthur are a little too close to each other. Francis thinks that getting Arthur to open up to him (like he used to) is impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late. Sorry. Also, there won't be as many fanfics... cause my country sucks. C'mon, can I just move to the UK?
> 
> un-beta'd, errors, please notify me!

Three hours, the longest three hours of Alfred's life passed when he sat down to listen to a lecture given by Scott. About the wars that happened in Asia. 

It started out okay, then it turned into a full-out arguement between the Asian students —who transferred from the many countries of Asia— and the rest of the class, who were all Westerners. Alfred could not take a side. Sure, the Opium Wars sounded horrifying, but the thought of the War of 1814 was just- ugh. 

But he had to admit, America sorta deserved it. Burning Canada in 1812, they got their retribution. Till today, Matthew still detests the burning of 1812. And is utterly terrified of flames. 

'Alright, chaps,' Scott slapped his hand on the table, 'who can tell me when the Sino-Japanese war started, and where?' Alfred was just about to answer, when Arthur spoke up. '1937, Manchuria.' Scott beamed at his younger brother; Alfred glared at Arthur.

All this while, ever since the cafe incident, Arthur ignored Alfred. Besides the occasional fight —which leads to a tearful Arthur, and Alfred would have to force down bile that threatens him, because guilt is forcing them up— there was no interaction between them. At all.

Arthur ignores his glare. 

Scott, however, continues with his class, an elaborate map drawn from coloured markers scatter across the board. He talks about how the war affects the people, how many died during the Japanese Occupation of Asia, other horrifying things —the Sook Ching Massacre and the one in Nanjing— and lastly, the "bluff". 

'Bluff?' Alfred echoes out. Scott nods his head, green eyes shining with yearn. 'The Japanese had only 100,000 troops.' His marker flies across the board. 'They attacked Manchuria, then spread to the whole of China. Meanwhile, Yamashita was sourcing for other means of resources, since America broke off oil in '38 to stop the attacks. And Yamashita chanced upon South East Asia.' The marker circles a part of the map in red. 'South East Asia is largely ruled by the Dutch East Indies and British East Indies, I suspect you should have already learnt this in your past years, and by gaining control over SEA, Yamashita can break the "European control".' The lines of blue and green —blue for the British, green for the Dutch— was erased in the middle. The connection between the "Europe" part of the map and the "SEA" part of the map was severed. 'He attacked Malaya, which had a rich expanse of rubber and tin. Then, once he had catpured Johor, he realised that Malaya's neighbour, Singapore, would come in handy.' The class' expressions turned quizzical. 'Singapore? Where's that?' A student from his left asked. 

Scott marked a tiny area, next to Malaya, and created a big red dot. 'There.' He announced. The Asian students sighed dreamily as fhe Western students looked confused. 'It isn't in China?' Someone asked. Irritated looks were sent to the poor girl. Scott chuckled and continued his lesson.

'Singapore possessed a great harbour and geographical location. Hence, taking control of it would help the Japanese. And besides, it was the Crown Colony of Britain during that time.' Scott chalked down notes that Alfred scribbled down messily. Now, this was interesting. 'The Battle lasted 8 days. We shall go into detail next lesson on how SEA fell into the Japanese rules next lesson as well. For now, we will study the "bluff".' Scott erased earlier notes on the route to conquering Southeast Asia and wrote down a new set of notes.

'Yamashita claimed that the entire thing was a bluff. They did not have enough men as compared to the Allies. In a live speech. . . .' Scott talked on and on, the words registering into Alfred's mind.

He did not notice Arthur frowning at Antonio— Francis' cousin. 

Class ended a few minutes earlier, so Alfred was left to wander for a while before he could get into English. He wondered if Callum would make them write end-to-end essays again. Alfred sighed, wringing his backpack's strap mindlessly, this year; he shared three classes with Arthur. World History, English, and Biology. It makes Alfred's stomach sick. Because Francis shares English and Biology with them, Matthew too, and Francis sits next to Arthur every time. Sure, they fight, but. . . They always patch up before it gets. . . Chaotic. They must've been warned by their parents. After the incident, their parents have been called to school; since Arthur had punched Francis when Francis initiated a conversation. 

It was in times like these Alfred would be jealous of Francis. At least they get along— somewhat. He and Arthur are going nowhere. 

Alfred takes a left, to find Arthur talking to Francis. He knows he should not listen, but he could not resist it. Especially when he hears a part that makes it interesting.

'So? Your parents want me over for dinner, again? Are you mad?' Arthur hissed, shoes clicking on the floor. Francis mumbles something, and clears his throat. 'Look, I know you don't want to dine with me, but at least- ' 

'I didn't say I didn't want to dine with you, but today? I've got piano lessons! I thought you knew! Besides, your parents. . . Are they still. . . Going to, er, you know. . .' Arthur trails off, and Alfred knows that the other is blushing like mad. Francis clears his throat, hand rustling his hair. What was it that made them sound awkward? Francis seemed to be preparing to talk again, but he was nearing Alfred. Alfred pressed against the wall he was leaning against. 

Francis stopped near Alfred, if he were to turn his head to look over the corner, Alfred would've been busted. Arthur was him. 'No! No, they're not- well, um, _père_ doesn't want to force it on us. . . So, no. We're not, eh, tying the knot anymore.' Arthur seemed to have collapsed against Francis, since Francis gave a huge shout of "Arthur!" but Alfred could care less.

Those two were engaged. Engaged. Soon-to-be weds. Alfred stumbled down the way he came from, dashing out of the gates. Callum would have to wait for Alfred's essay. 

'They were engaged! Oh my God, they were— ' Alfred stops talking when Mathias shakes him. Mathias was a tall blond whose hair was . . . Nicely messed up into an elaborate quiff. He wore a hat toward the right of his head, and a dark coloured sweater with a pair of red jeans. Mathias' eyes bored into Alfred's own. 'Al, Al, relax, breathe. Thank Odin!' Yeah, Mathias was sorta weird. The Dane steadied Alfred and set him on a chair. Mathias then called out to the person behind the counter. 'Norge! Can you get us a cup of chilled sweetened tea?' The person nodded, and fixed Mathias' order. 

It wasn't really his name, but Lukas still responded when it was called. The tea, and a coffee for the Dane, was placed. Lukas ordered his younger brother to close up the shop. 'You okay, Alfred?' Lukas, or Norge, was a light blond beauty. With blond hair falling onto his shoulders, a cross-shaped beret holding the right side of his hair up, and blue eyes that was a little on the bright side. Lukas was shy when Alfred first met him, and Lukas always hid behind Mathias, until the fourth month Alfred had gotten to know him. 

Alfred nodded numbly, head between his palms. 'Brother?' Lukas' younger brother asked softly from the side, Lukas shook his head and told him to go wash up with Berwald and Tino first. The younger nodded his head, placing a doughnut —Alfred loved them— on a plate and serving it to Alfred. Alfred barely looked up.

Mathias and Lukas shared a look. 'Go, Mathias, I'll talk to him.' Mathias' eyes softened, and he patted Alfred on the back before walking off to the counter. Lukas frowned slightly, 'Alfred? Here, have a sip. You look dehydrated. C'mon.' Alfred took a huge gulp — 'I said a sip! Don't drink so much at one go! You'll get a tummy ache, Jones!'   'Sorry, Lukas, just, I'm thirsty.'   'Serves you right! Who runs a few kilometers non-stop and starts whining about something before taking a cup of water?!'— Lukas shook his head. Alfred looked slightly better. Just slightly. 'So, who is this person who's engaged to the other person?' Lukas asks casually. Alfred feels bile rising in his throat. 

'Francis. . . 'n Arthur.' Lukas' eyes widen a little. 'They. .  I heard. . . They used to be engaged, Mr. Bonnefoy cut it off in the end.' Lukas nods, albeit slowly. 'Alfred, why are you. . . So, so upset over this? I mean, I know you love your friends, but. . . ' Lukas leaves the rest for Alfred to intepret. Mathias watches quietly from a corner. His thumb is one press away from calling Arthur, but he decides against it. Lukas' younger brother peeks out from the storage door. 'Is Al okay? When's brother gonna pack and leave? I'm a little hungry, Mathias.' Mathias snaps his head up. 'Oh noooo, no little brother of mine leaves this place hungry. I'm gonna cook up something, to the kitchen! Ice!' Mathias steers the younger to the kitchen, never giving him an answer.

Lukas realises, a few minutes later, that Alfred has a serious problem. One, he leaves the treat alone. Two, Alfred's eyes seemed to be swimming with uncertainty. Three, Alfred is staring at him. Lukas shifts uncomfortably into the seat. 'Is. . . Something, um, wrong?' Lukas asks stiffly. He gulps, uncertain of what the American will do. 'Al?' He squeaks. Alfred apologises so loud Mathias came running out the kitchen, shouting "Alfred Jones I swear if you did anything I will kill you".

*

Arthur, for once, feels at peace. No bethrothal hanging over his head; threatening him whatsoever. He felt so at peace that he fell into Francis. 'Arthur!' Francis shouts, frantic, and picks him up bridal style. He runs to the sick bay and dashes to Callum and Scott afterwards —'take care of him for me, miss, or you will lose your job.' He told the nurse.—, to say they were unhappy class was disrupted was an understatement. He was glad he met Antonio before the Spainard went back to his class. The two barged into the two classrooms, each creating a scene. 

'ARTHUR WHAT?!' Scott and Callum shouts. They dismiss the class and run to the sick bay faster than the younger boys can ever catch up to.

Arthur wakes up, vision a little hazy, and tries to sit up. But is covered with a face full of red hair. 'The hell were ya thinkin', brat? Fainting like that!' Scott scolds him in a muffled tone. Callum whines a "don't hog him, you pig!" and is ignored. Arthur groans painfully, arms squished to a side. 'Sorry, just, mum and dad will kill us! What the hell happened?' Callum treats Arthur with more care, hugging him lightly and ruffling his hair.

Francis explains, since Antonio insisted that Arthur should eat something first. 'Here! I've got a packet of chocolate covered churros and cherry tomatoes!' Arthur, with a baffled look, accepts them and starts to nibble on them. 

At the end of it all, Scott and Callum sighs deeply. 'At least you won't marry each other.'

*

Lukas is not a boy that can read minds, but he is an individual that can read a person perfectly. It took him a total of ten years to get his younger brother to call him "brother", and during these years, his skills improved. (Well, the whole thing was a prank that Mathias forced Lukas to do, since Lukas met Emil more than a decade ago. They were sort of. . . brothers. It's complicated) But one person who never needed reading was Alfred, still; today, Lukas had to read Alfred. Confusing? Alfred was an open book, today; not so. 

Lukas frowns. 'Alfred. . . I think. . . You may have a- ' Lukas catches himself. He cannot say that. Alfred will kill him. But Lukas suspects Alfred knows, anyway.

And Alfred does. But. . . How? Why? 

It wasn't because looking at Arthur -God, did Alfred hate him- made the other boy's heart thump louder and faster and his blood rush into his ears and his face to get slightly pinker and his words end up wrong. No.

And Alfred had to face it- he wasn't just jealous of Arthur Kirkland anymore.

He was crushing on the Brit. Hard.

So hard, that he could hear the phrase "I'm English, not Brit!" every single time he thinks of Arthur.

And -God damn it all- Francis being chummy, yet not quite, with Alfred's new crush did not help it at all.

And just because Arthur and Francis are no longer engaged, it does not mean Arthur is a free man now. Arthur, Alfred swears, must be upset. Upset enought to fall once Francis tells him the news. Alfred growls and slams his fists on the table of the coffee shop. Lukas jumps, and sighs before leaving Alfred. 

Francis is a damn lucky bastard to have Arthur, and he broke it off. But wait- since when did Alfred start to fall for the new Mr. Perfect? Alfred runs a hand through his already ragged hair, and he feels himself falling into despair. 

What is he to do?

*

'Arthur?' Antonio prods the smaller male in the shoulder. 'Huh?' Antonio points to Alfred. Arthur's face twists into irritation. 'Isn't he always making those moon eyes at you? How come-?' Arthur chortles, 'right.' Francis, who sat next to Antonio, shakes his head. Arthur leaves, saying he felt a little ill. 

'Um, did I do something wrong?' Anotonio asks Francis, who shrugs. 'Meet you later, then, Francis. I've got to help the Librarian with something!'

* 

A month of avoiding Arthur proved that Alfred needed help. Sure, he was avoiding the other boy, but. . . Arthur's been ill for a week already. 'Is Arthur sick or something?' He asks Matthew. Matthew frowns, 'yeah, a fever, a cold, and he's been crying. From what Francis and Antonio said.' Alfred was about to reply, when an albino shouted: 'FRANCIS BONNEFOY, ARTHUR'S ILL?!' Well, it was more of a screech. But. 

Alfred whirls around to find himself knocking against the albino's head. He apologises, ignoring the stinging, and gets a look at the other boy.

Snow-white hair, blood red eyes, dressed in a blue uniform —the boys' academy from three neighborhoods down— and loafers. 'Alfred?' The boy asks, Alfred nods, 'great! You seen Francis? My little cousin is ill, and he tells no one!' The albino fumes. He was about to reply when Francis swoops in. 

*

Arthur is in a daze. Crying, wrecked mess. 'Lukas, the hell am I supposed to do?' Lukas wrings his hands.

'Confess.' He says simply.

*

Francis and Antonio has the perfect plot to get the two together. But, Arthur's sick. And Prom's next week.

* * *

 Arthur was sick for the next month. From crying and all. Alfred did not know this. Alfred sighed unhappily as he flippedthe pages of his textbook. 'Gee, is Arthur so mad at me he wants to skip school, and pretend he's ill?'

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sucks? Yeah, I think so tooooooo. I'm not sure about how many troops there are, even when I've learnt it before, all I know is that is is either 100,000 or 10,000. The second one was a bit. . . Impossible... so....
> 
> note: OOC Nordics (?)
> 
> Alright, I extended it to be a three-parter.  
> Cause AO3 keeps deleting what I write. :(

**Author's Note:**

> Whooaaaaaaa. What the hell just happened there. 
> 
> Okay, so, it is a series? ((Uncertainty sucks.))
> 
> See you! UoU
> 
> P.S. tell me my mistakes. I don't study the West, do I have no idea how the whole high school/grade system/ thing work. I live in SEA, okay?
> 
> Note: un-beta'd. If you wanna beta it, please do so help me:)


End file.
